You Can't Always Get What You Want
by Lickerish
Summary: Post 'Sectionals'. My take on what will happen. Started out as a one-shot, but I decided to continue it. Major SPOILER warning. Also, there will be a lot of angst in this piece, just to warn you. :P
1. My Life Would Suck Without You

Hey guys, I am obsessed with Glee at the moment and Emma and Will in particular. This is a little ficlet from Will's point of view during the last three minutes of the episode 'Sectionals'. Major SPOILER alert. Also, this is my first Glee fic, so I hope I captured them well enough. I don't own anything and intend no infringement. Without further ado, the story.

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1. My Life Would Suck Without You

[Will POV]

I can't help but smile at the enthusiasm and talent that each one of these kids exude. It feels so good to be back here with them after the most recent Sue scare, and yet there is this feeling in the pit of my stomach. A feeling that something is out of place. Attempting to shake it, I bring my thoughts back to the teenagers before me. The amalgamation of their previous numbers is entertaining to say the least. Yet as they sing Kelly Clarkson's lyrics, my mind begins to wander once again to that out of place feeling.

"You got a piece of me," they sing, "and honestly, my life would suck without you." As Rachel and Mercedes belt out the lyrics in each other's faces, I can't help but ruminate over the person currently walking out of my life. It is right then that I realize the mistake I am about to make if I let her go. She is my person. My like _would_ suck without her. It's like the kids know me better than I know myself – save for the fact that they were singing about having _me_ in their lives, not Emma.

I wonder what Emma is doing right now. It is Monday – her last day according to the resignation she sent to Figgins – and school was out over twenty minutes ago. She could still be in her office, gathering her belongings; but what if she's not there anymore? What if she's all packed up and gone? I could surely track her down, but it would be much more difficult to convince her to reconsider an act she has already fully completed. Has she already acquired a new job? What is she planning on doing with her life? I need to run for her. Now. However, the students are still performing their song – the song they put together just for me. I can't just leave in the middle of it. My legs begin to bounce as I fidget in anticipation. The cowboy hat sitting there falls to the floor and I leave it where it lands. Every moment I wait is another step she could be taking out of my life. As the song comes to an end, I leap out of my chair, unable to contain myself any longer.

"That was great guys! Why don't you discuss what types of songs you would like to perform against Vocal Adrenaline at regionals?" I am nearly out the door by this point, shouting over my shoulder as I go, "I'll be back. There's just something I need to do." My brain barely even registers the confused looks on their young faces as I tear around the corner, stopping only when I reach the doorway of Emma's office. My grin fades as I take in the barren desk and shelves. She is gone. I don't even know what I had planned on doing when I got here. I assume I had hoped that upon seeing her, I would know what I had to do. I guess my brain never made it that far. I just stand there for a moment, reveling in my idiocy. How could I have let her slip through my fingers? I had had so many opportunities to be with Emma in the past and yet I stayed instead in a loveless relationship. Granted I had thought I loved my wife and had even thought I had a child on the way. Looking back now I realize that I never felt about Terri the way I do about Emma. That's what really kills me. That she was right there in front of me, ready and willing, but I was too stupid to see how great she really was until it was too late. Too late. That thought resonates in my head as I walk out of the office. Not her office. Not anymore. Just an office.

I wander out into the hallway scratching the back of my head in frustration, looking the way I came. My hand falls limply to my side and I glance quickly in the other direction, wistfully hoping that she would just appear there. When I see her form before me, I pause, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. It doesn't seem to be and my mouth drops open in shock. Maybe I haven't lost my chance after all. I take a few tentative steps forward before launching myself into a near sprint. I am in front of her before I know it. Gently removing the box from her hands, I place it on the floor. The look on my face must be one of confusion because she looks at me with her beautiful, wide, bright brown eyes.

"What?" she says. As I bring my finger to her lips in order to silence any doubts or questions, her eyes focus, not on my own, but upon my lips. It is then that I make my ultimate decision. Pulling my hand slowly away from her face, I take a deep breath. I grasp her waist and take a step forward, pulling her body into my own. Leaning downward, I quickly capture her lips with my own. With this kiss I attempt to express everything I can't with words. She needs to know how much I need her. At first she is stiff, but soon, Emma responds by returning the caress and bringing her hands up to grasp my biceps.

We pull slowly away at the same time, although our faces remain within inches of each other. I allow her space to breathe, but I still hold her against me by the waist. She can't run away from this, from me. Not yet. I stare down upon her features, attempting to gauge her reaction to what must have been unexpected to say the least. Her eyes remain closed for what seems like an eternity. At last they open and she takes a number of deep breaths. I steel myself for the worst, but then it happens. Her lush, pink lips curl around her strikingly white teeth into what must be the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I can't help but smile in response. Hers soon disappears and she mutters just one word.

"Will."


	2. Defying Gravity

_Hey guys. Decided to add on to this little piece. More to come. Let me know what you t__hink. Peace._

2. Defying Gravity

[Emma POV]

After signing my resignation, I leave Figgin's office with less determination than I think I have ever encompassed. I know that I am doing what needs to be done, but at what cost? Is it worth the heartache of leaving everything I know, everything I love, just to avoid the confrontation. But then I remember that this is not just for me. The look of confusion doubled with pure dejection on Will Schuester's face when he told me of leaving his wife informed me that he too needs time. Time that I can't give. Seeing him everyday and knowing that he is aware of my feelings for him, yet not being able to do anything about it would kill me. I can't put either of us in that position.

So as I walk past the hallway to my office, I stop to give it one last wistful glance. What I see there causes my entire body to forgo mobility. Will comes toward me, slowly at first, but soon picks up the pace. As he approaches my side, I regain some of my composure and turn to face him. His soft, graceful hands – hands that I can't help but compare to Ken's meaty, calloused, clammy ones – remove my boxful of belongings from my arms and place it next to me on the floor. My own hands clench into fists at the sudden emptiness. My eyes follow his actions intently and meet his as his body straightens once again to its full height.

"What?" I mutter, shaking my head in confusion at his actions. His own face is etched with uncertainty as he lifts a finger toward my mouth. Were it anyone else standing before me, my mind would probably wander to whether they were actually going to touch me and how unsanitary such an action would be. However, as it were, all I can think about is the way his supple lips part and the sweet, minty breath that makes its way to my nostrils. My eyes focus on his lips and my mind wanders instead to all the ways he could be using them at this exact moment – a pastime I partake in much too often as it were. Glancing back into his eyes, I find a determination there that almost scares me. Not knowing what is happening is unsettling. I like to have everything in order and this feeling is something I can't control.

Taking a step forward, he slips his lean fingers around my waist and pulls me gently toward him. He leans his head in toward mine and my eyelids flutter closed. Will quickly captures my lips in a passionate embrace. He kisses me like no man ever has and for a moment I am stunned into submission. I quickly gather my thoughts and respond in kind, returning the kiss and grasping his upper arms with everything I have.

He pulls away, his forehead nearly resting on my own. I can see nothing for the fact that my eyes remain closed as I attempt to catch my breath and slow my rampant heartbeat. When I do open my eyes, I look directly into his. What I see there is what I assume to be unadulterated love and I can't help the smile of pure elation that begins to grow on my face. His features mirror my own as he seems to absorb my happiness.

"Will," I murmur as my smile disappears.

His own smile slowly slips from his perfect features, making his Kirk Douglas chin dimple more prominent. I can't form any other words. Just his name. It's the only one of the jumbled thoughts running through my head that seems to make it to my lips.

The rest of the world comes back into focus as I realize the situation we find ourselves in. The pair of us are standing in the hallway of William McKinley High School. A place at which I no longer work. My engagement was called off two days ago; the same day he decided to leave his wife. Yet here we are, two days later – kissing. It's not right and I know it. I can't be that girl. I can be the rebound; not with Will. He matters too much for me to allow myself to screw it up.

He needs time – we both do. Time to sort out our feelings about our current situations and about each other. I can now see that he, at least is some small way, reciprocates my feelings for him, but how deep do they really go? This could just be some ill-fated attempt to keep me from leaving. I like to think of Will as my best friend. Maybe he feels the same way about me and just doesn't want to lose that bond. Perhaps, just perhaps, he understands that for me, I will be losing so much more than a job when I walk out the school doors today. More than a friendship even. I will be losing the possibility; the possibility of finding out what a real relationship could be like. Maybe he feels the same. It's all just too soon. We need to take a step back – both literally and figuratively – in order to examine our lives. This is not something I can just jump into with Will. Not when so much is at stake. I am already losing so much.

"I can't…"

Unable to finish the sentence and put my thoughts into words, I shake my head. With what I hope to be an apologetic look upon my face, I bend down to grab my box. His hands hold tight on my waist however, and any attempts are thwarted.

"Please, Will," I quietly plead, looking anywhere but his eyes, hoping that he can understand what I am asking. He seems to, as his hands quickly leave my body. Even through my wool peacoat, I miss the heat. Pushing that thought to the back on my mind, I lean down and pick up my belongings. "Goodbye, Will," I mutter, glancing one last time into his hazel eyes before turning on my heel to leave.

"Em," he calls out, grasping my elbow lightly before I even take a step, "please." His beseeching tone mirrors my own just moments before, however, it is clear that he is asking for the opposite of what I can give. "I… you can't leave."

I take a step forward, sliding easily from his loose grasp, my head held down in shame. I can't give him what he needs, not right now anyway, even if I want it as badly as he seems to.

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_Reviews are always welcomed and loved. No matter what you have to say. Seriously._


	3. Taking Chances

3. Taking Chances

"I need you," Will announces to my retreating figure.

His words cut through me like a knife and I halt. My already wet eyes collect further moisture at his proclamation and a single tear makes its way down my face. I attempt to stifle the small sob that wracks my body, but his sudden movement makes it clear that he has heard it.

Before I know what is happening, his strong arms are wrapped around my shoulders from behind. As the sobs grow louder and begin to take over my countenance, he holds my back firmly against him. Will's head rests against my own, skewing my hat and sending it flitting toward my feet. My tears take precedence over the need to save my hat from the germs of the floor and I let it fall. My box soon joins it there with a loud thump. Arms hang loosely at my thighs, I realize the true depth of what I am getting myself into. My vociferous weeping suddenly makes it to my own ears and I can't help but wish that I could laugh at how ludicrous everything has become. Instead, another wave of sobs wrack my body. My chest constricts and I gasp for breath, struggling to find respite.

"Just breathe Em," Will tranquilly whispers in my ear as he slowly turns my body within his warm embrace. "I'm going to say something. You don't have to respond, but I want you to listen. For me. Please, just listen." My crying begins to slow and Will takes the opportunity to wipe my tear-stricken face with the soft pads of his thumbs. He quickly returns his arms to support my back, holding me to him, my head cradled against his chest. "I know you're scared Emma," he mumbles into my hair. "I understand, or at least I think I do. I'm scared too, but I need you to know that the feelings I acted on today have been a long time coming. This isn't just some miserable attempt to keep you from quitting your job. That kiss was so much more than that Em. I _do_ need you Emma. As a friend and a confidant; and it may be unfair of my to say, but I hope someday you will let me need you as a lover as well. I understand if you need time. I _did_ just end my marriage and if you feel uncomfortable with starting something so soon after my or your own relationship, then I completely understand taking a step back. But please, don't walk away from this, because what we have and what we could have together is too important for me to lose. I need you."

Will stands there, stroking my head as his silent tears begin to seep into my hair. I take his words in slowly as I sniffle, attempting to control my emotions but having a hard time of doing it. His speech rings in my ears and I breath in his cologne, not wanting to pull away from his embrace and face reality. Finally, I snake my right arm up between us and, placing my hand upon his chest, gently push him away. I search his moist eyes for what seems like an eternity before speaking.

"Will," I begin before my voice cracks. Clearing my throat, I try again. "Will, I too have strong feelings for you that I am unable to ignore." His face lights up with glee as I take a steadying breath. "However," I continue, his face falling almost immediately, "I think we both need to take a step back and let our current situations sink in. Like I said before, I can't work here anymore." He rapidly opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off with a hand placed between us. "Before you say anything, it has just as much to do with Ken as it does with you. I just can't handle the humiliation of facing him everyday. I made a him a promise that I knew I could never keep and for that I will always be ashamed. No matter what he did or didn't do, he never deserved that."

"And more than that, more than all of that, you need to think about your wife." He opens his mouth yet again to protest, but my nonverbals quiet him once more. "Yes, I know you left her, but until you sign the divorce papers, she is still your _wife_, and I will _not_ be the other woman. Think about it Will. _Really_ _think_ and decide if this is what you want. I don't want to get in the way. I won't. I am going to leave now. You have my number. Call if you need anything. I am still, and will always be, your friend. Let me know when things are settled with Terri – one way or the other. Just… make the decision that's right for you. Not me, not us, but you."

I take a swift step back before reaching down once more for my box and nearly forgotten hat. Carefully pinching the latter between my forefinger and thumb, I drop it into the box. I will bleach and wash it a few times when I get home to remove the germs. Grasping the box, I stand up carefully and peck the man before me fleetingly on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Will." Without another glance, I turn 180 degrees and make my way down the hallway toward the exit.

As I approach my car, I shift the box to my left hip, reaching into my right coat pocket for the keys. Grasping them tightly, as if they, like everything else in my life, might disappear, I slide the key into the door lock and turn it. Hearing it click, I open the drivers door and reach back to pull up the lock on the back door. It's not long before my possessions are safely stored behind me and the car is roaring to life. The hole in the muffler growls at me as I slowly pull out of the McKinley parking lot for what may very well be the last time in my life. I stare back at the silhouette of the slender man still standing in a brightly lit hallway before flicking on my turn signal. As my tears threaten to return, I tear my eyes away from the life I am leaving behind and instead look out onto the road I have decided to follow.


	4. No Air

_Okay, so I had about half of this chapter written and of course, Word decided to quit the one time I didn't save. Save early and often. That's always my mantra, but apparently I forgot this time. I hope this chapter is as good as I had originally written it. Oh well. Enjoy._

4. No Air

[Will POV]

I watch Emma Pillsbury walk away from me in what can only be described as a stunned silence. A cool gust of air reaches me as the door shuts, effectively separating her from myself. I can feel my heart burning in my chest and my lungs screaming for air as forget to breathe. Losing Emma is like living in a world with no air and I suddenly lose the desire to take another breath at all. I stand there in a lackadaisical daze unaware of my surroundings save for the car slowly creeping out of the school parking lot. Even with the distance between us, our eyes meet for a brief moment before she turns away once more. Her car turns left onto the desolate road and she soon disappears from sight.

Slowly realizing what has to be done, I turn. Unaware of the numerous sets of eyes on myself – eyes of the students poking their heads around the choir room door – I quickly make my way to my classroom. Wiping any residual tears from my face, I slide into my desk chair and open my MacBook. Quickly finding Safari in the dock at the bottom of the screen, I open it and do a cursory Google search. Finding what I am looking for, I jot down the necessary information before closing the computer. I stand to leave, checking my pocket for my wallet and keys before slipping my jacket from the back of my seat.

It is not long before I find myself pulling into a parking spot before a sign indicating that I have arrived. _Siferd & McCluskey, Attorneys at Law._ I can't help but sigh at the turn my life has taken. I know however, that I am ready to take this step; ready to be free of all of the negativity Terri has brought into my life. She no longer has control over me – mentally or physically – and soon she will have no legal claim to me whatsoever. That is how it needs to be. Carefully shutting the door of my little blue car, I make my way into the wood paneled lobby of the drab office building. Checking the note I made myself earlier, I take the cramped elevator up to the fifth floor and enter the law office.

As soon as I close the door, it feels as if a weight has been laid upon my shoulders. I feel the sudden urge to run back to my car. The soothing voice of the receptionist keeps me there as she asks how she can help. I hurriedly inform the woman that I would like to see someone about a divorce. In a sympathetic tone, the older woman asks me to take a seat on the grungy faux leather chairs. Someone will be with me soon. Even her kindness does nothing to sway my nerves.

Soon enough, it hits me. I'm not nervous about divorcing Terri. As far as I'm concerned, it is already done. I'm nervous that this won't be enough. That Emma will still need time. In fact, I know she will. What scares me is that I don't know how long she wants. Will be wait a month? Three? A year? I don't know what will happen to me if I wait a whole year. How am I even going to get through a divorce without my best friend? Surely Emma only meant that we couldn't be together romantically. I can't survive without her as a friend. I just wouldn't make it; of that I am sure.

I am pulled from my reverie as a slender man with graying hair swiftly approaches me. He introduces himself as Richard E. Siferd with an outstretched hand. Taking it, I feel instantly at ease and stand swiftly as he leads me back to his office. As we enter, I note the walls lined with selves. Shelves housing important looking books – the kind you probably wouldn't be able to check out from the library. He too motions for me to sit and I slide into a much more comfortable chair situated before his desk. The man gracefully walks around and takes his seat in front of me. Mr. Siferd places his elbows upon the desk, interlacing his fingers before speaking in a soothing tone.

"I hear you're interested in discussing the legal implications of a divorce, Mr. …" He trials off, indicating that I should supply him with a name at this point.

"Schuester. Will Schuester." I fidget, moving to sit upright in my seat. "And yes, I would like to have divorce papers drawn up. Today if at all possible." The attorney's eyebrows rise up his forehead and he places his hands down on the polished mahogany desk before him.

"May I ask what the rush may be, sir? A divorce is not something that should be taken lightly." His tone is not disapproving or judgmental, simply concerned. I take a moment, deciding how to best answer his question, finally landing on the truth. For if he is going to help me, he should learn the whole story, should he not?

"Well," I begin, suddenly unsure of how to continue. The story is such a long one that condensing it seems like a daunting task, "my relationship has been pretty rocky for a while now and the only thing holding it together these last few months has been the knowledge that I was soon going to become a father." I pause, sighing deeply at the memory of when I was happy, even if just for a little while. "It all turned out to be a lie."

"What did?" He asks, slightly perplexed. "The marriage?" I nod, continuing in order to elucidate my point.

"And the pregnancy." His eyebrows shoot up once again, but I can't blame the man. No one would expect such a response. "She was never pregnant. I can't… I can't even look at her anymore. It's over. All I need is the divorce papers to finalize it." I look up expectantly at the kind man before me, hoping to find some sort of solace there.

"Well," he starts, his voice all business, "it seems as if you have put some thought into this and that I am not going to change your mind anytime soon. Why don't I ask you a few questions and we can get to work on those documents." Looking briefly at his computer screen, he shakes the mouse to wake it up.

"Thank you." The man simply smiles in response and returns his attention momentarily back to me. I fold my hands in my lap, happy to be taking one step closer to ending it all.

"In terms of property, what are you looking to retain?" His fingers hover expectantly over his keyboard as he awaits my response.

"Nothing. She can have everything. I just want out." This does not seem to be the response the man was looking for and he glances at me once again, confusion knit through his eyebrows.

"Are you sure you want nothing, Mr. Schuester? Your residence, your automobile, heirlooms?" I sigh, contemplating his question. I really do not want anything that will remind me of this marriage, but I do need a car to get to work- unless I continue to live there.

"She can have the apartment and everything in it. Yes, I would like to keep my car, but she has one of her own, so I don't see how that will be a problem. And we have no possessions worth fighting over. She can take them." I know how materialistic Terri can be and don't want to fight over things that don't matter to me in the end. I want all of this to be as painless as possible.

"Are there any children involved? For another marriage perhaps?" I am suddenly struck with happiness at the fact that we didn't bring a child into our mess of a marriage. The only people we are hurting is ourselves.

"No," I tell him. "No children." He takes a moment to record my answers in his open word document before returning look at me.

"Alright sir, why don't you leave your information with Susan out front. She will have a form for you to fill out and we will get these papers drawn up. I'll have someone give you a call as soon as they are prepared." He gestures grandly toward the lobby and I take that as my leave. Standing without delay, I make my way toward the door. Opening it, I take a step forward into the lobby before turning back.

"Thank you, Mr. Siferd. I really appreciate it." Looking up from his computer for a final time, he regards me.

"Of course." I am nearly out the door before I hear my name once again. "And Mr. Schuester?"

"Yes?" I ask, glancing in his direction yet again.

"I hope things work out for you." His expression is one of consideration and understanding and I can't help the smile that graces my face in response. _I think I will_, I tell myself as I close his office door behind me. _I think I will_.

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_Well, hope you liked it. More to come. PS: Reviews are like crack to me. I love them. Even anonymous ones. But if you log in before you review, I promise to respond._


	5. Alone

_Hello there. Sorry for the delay. Hope you like where this is going. This chapter will be a bit different because I plan on adding in another point of view – possibly one you wouldn't be expecting. Without any further ado, here it is._

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5. Alone

[Emma POV]

Setting my box down momentarily by the door, I quickly shed my coat and heels. After lining the latter carefully along the shoe rack on the floor, I pick up the box and place it carefully onto my coffee table. Removing the orchid first, I ensure that the reservoir is securely in place before placing it with a few other plants on the skinny table lining my window. Sliding my fingers across the table itself, I notice that a small amount of dust has collected there since my last dusting. After washing my hand thoroughly, I begin to dust every surface in the apartment. Not stopping there, I get out my Swiffer and mop the hardwood floors.

This always seems to be my defense mechanism. Whenever I have a problem that I don't want to deal with, I clean. It makes me feel safe and secure. Cleaning is my haven. It is not long before my entire apartment has been dusted, mopped, wiped, scrubbed, or disinfected, leaving nothing to be done other than finish unpacking my box. My box of possessions that should be sitting in my office at McKinley. However, it is no longer my office for I no longer work there. I gently remove a white book and slide it from the bubble wrap in which it was protected for the short journey. Turning it over in hands, I recall it's origins.

_On Friday of the first week at my new job, I walk through the still unfamiliar halls of McKinley High School toward my office. Being the middle of the lunch hour, the halls are pretty barren – most of the students on their way back to campus from one of the few fast food restaurants within a reasonable distance. As I turn a corner, a rouge student bumps into me, the remainder of his slushy cascading down my white blouse. The look of pure terror on my face must scare him off because, after a rushed apology, he takes off in the opposite direction. I stand there in a daze, my eyes wide, willing it all to be a horrible dream._

"_Ms. Pillsbury?" a voice behind me probes. It sounds as if I am in a sort of bubble and the noise reaches my ears, not as a word, but as a jumble of sounds. I am pulled from my stupor as a hand reaches out for my sticky shoulder. "Emma?"_

_Turning I note that the hand belongs to the handsome young Spanish teacher. Will Schuester._

"_What happened?" he inquires, confusion and concern knit through his tone and if I had it in me, I would smile at his kindness. As it is, I can barely contain the cringe that makes it to the surface._

"_Student… slushy…. shirt… mess… he… I…" Nothing coherent makes it out of my mouth; and yet, Will seems to understand._

"_Let's get you out of the hall, Emma." I can barely comprehend what is happening, but soon he stands behind me, guiding me through the halls by the shoulders. I don't pull away from his touch, which is odd, because normally I would. We soon stop at a door, which he opens and guides me through. I am gently pushed into a seated position on a desk chair and I slowly register that he has taken me to his classroom. He opens a desk drawer and takes a few things out before turning his back on me._

"_Stay here," he tells me. "I'll be right back." He disappears for a moment and is soon back with a wetted towel. "Don't worry," he reassures, already aware of my germophobic tendencies through our lunchtime meetings, "this towel is clean."_

_I struggle to understand why I would need to know about the cleanliness of his towel until he brushes it against my exposed collarbone. Shocked by his actions, I jump slightly, my mouth hanging open in a large 'o'._

"_Will," I ask, the first full sentence to grace my lips since the incident, "what are you doing?"_

"_Cleaning you up. You could always do it yourself if you'd rather, but you didn't seem to be in the right mindset to do it a moment ago." He holds the towel out for me to take, but I bite my lip, shaking my head. Understanding, he continues his work until the stickiness is gone – from my exposed skin at least. "Now, I can't help you with the rest, but here is a shirt I keep at school for emergencies such as these. I know it's not exactly your style, but at the moment, I think it's your best bet."_

_He reaches out, handing me a periwinkle blue button down and all I can do is stare at it. He wants me to wear his shirt? His hand is on my arm and when I look up I realize that he has been speaking. The trouble is, I have no idea what he has said._

"_Sorry, Will," I murmur, a bewildered expression upon my face. "What was that?"_

"_I said that if you don't want it, you don't have to wear it. I just thought it would be cleaner than the one you have on." I simply stare at him, still trying to comprehend the idea of wearing a piece of clothing he has worn before. It has nothing to do with how sanitary it would be, but instead with the fact that I will smell him for the rest of the day. I will be closer to Will Schuester than I will probably ever be again and I am both delighted and terrified. Will I be able to focus on anything other than his shirt for the rest of the day? Then again, if I refuse, my only other option is to wear the sticky one I still have on and the thought makes me begin to hyperventilate. "Are you okay, Emma?"_

"_What? Oh, yeah, fine." I take the shirt from him and our hands touch in the process. I try not to dwell on it, but as I stand, our faces are mere inches apart. For a moment as stare into his hazel eyes, but am started by the sound of students walking through the hallways once more. A cursory glance at my gold watch tells me that I have six minutes before lunch ends and third period begins. "Thanks, Will. For everything. I'll… I'll see you later." _

"_Later, Em." _Funny_, I think to myself. He already has a nickname for me. One that I have only allowed my family to use in the past. Somehow, I don't mind him calling me Em. It seems fitting when it comes from his lips. As I walk out the door I glance behind myself quickly, his friendly, smiling face the last thing I see._

_I spend the remainder of the day, as expected, consumed with thoughts of the kind man I will never be able to have. He is married, which pains me more than I like to admit to myself. I have only known this man for four days and already I can't get him out of my head. How can I be in so deep so soon? I will myself to focus on the needs of the teenager sitting across from myself and somehow make it through the remainder of the day._

_The following Monday morning, I stop by his classroom and find it empty. I'm not surprised as I have begun to notice that no one save for myself and the principal get here this early. I leave his freshly laundered shirt on his desk with a 'thank you' card perched atop. Upon arrival in my own office, I am surprised to find a white, hardcover book sitting on my desk. The handwritten title on the spine indicates that it will be my guide to William McKinley High School, a note on top indicating that it is from a different William altogether._

I open the book after placing the bubble wrap in the garbage, as reusing it would be unsanitary. Faded drawings jump out at me from the pages. Images indicating the quickest route from the parking lot to my office, where the _cool_ teachers (i.e. Will) sit in the teacher's lounge, and more. I can't help but smile at the ridiculous amount of detail Will included in his map of the school and the precision with which he did so. It is then that I realized I will no longer be taking the routes he planned out for me and it becomes a little to difficult to continue my perusal. Closing the book, I carefully slide it onto my bookshelf in alphabetic order and hope that I can forget about it, at least for now, as I promptly put away the remainder of my 'office supplies'.

After taking a quick shower, I slip into my favorite pajamas and slide under the covers in my queen-sized bed. At this moment it feels extremely empty with just myself, but I try to shove that thought out of my mind. Instead of thinking about who could join me in my bed to make it less lonely, I focus my mind on the note that certain someone left at the end of the book he created for me. _Now that you know how to survive McKinley, go guide young minds. The rest of us will try not to get in your way._

It strikes me then that I _did_ let the others get in the way of what I promised to do when I took the job at McKinley. By signing that contract a year and a half ago, I gave an agreement to provide the students with guidance for the problems they could not solve on their own. Now that I have left, and until a new guidance counselor is hired to take my place, who will help these students? I can't help but feel like I have failed them and my mind wanders to the one student who needs help the most at this moment. What is she doing now? Where is she? What will she do in the next few months? Does she have a plan? I mull over these and other questions until my muddled mind drifts off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

[Quinn POV]

Sitting on my makeshift bed, the pull-out couch in the Hudson's small den, I can't help but contemplate the choices I have made to get me where I am today. None were made lightly, although one was made rashly with an excess of alcohol in my underage body. Yes, that was a bad decision in itself, but the one that truly haunts me is the one that broke the heart of the boy I love. The boy just down the hall in his bedroom. I know he's there because I can hear his XBox roaring through the walls as he get vaporized once again on level two. This seems to be all he does these days. If he is home that is, which doesn't happen too often. He can't even look at me anymore, but who could blame him. I lied. Took his heart and trampled all over it. Put him through the stress of becoming a teenage parent for naught. Led him to believe that he was on his way to becoming a father. In that respect, I am no better than Terri Schuester, a thought that shakes me to the bone. There is something seriously wrong with that woman and relating myself to her in any way makes my stomach turn.

I wonder idly what it would have been like to give my little girl to that woman. Mr. Schuester would have been a fantastic father for sure – the kind of father I always wished I had. He would be kind and understanding. A father that would put his little girl on his knee and tell her she could be anything she set her mind to. A father that his daughter could tell anything to – from an F in chemistry to an unplanned pregnancy. He would be upset and worried, but he would also be there for his daughter – as he has been there for Finn and me. I contemplate whether he would be willing to take her now; now that he's left Terri, but can't bring myself to ask. It would be too much to ask of a man that has already given me so much.

I can't bring myself to do a number of things. Leaving the Hudson's being on the top of that list. I want to of course, it hurts Finn too much to have me here and it hurts me to see him like that. I hate knowing that I have done that to him. I know he wants me to leave. He's done with me, told me so himself, but Finn knows I have nowhere else to go. Of all the things Finn may be, vindictive is not one of them. He would never throw me out on the streets, which I appreciate more than he will ever know. Finn too will make a wonderful father one day – when he grows up that is. Maybe if I hadn't made such reckless decisions, I would be able to father his future children. He has more eyes for 'Man Hands' Berry right now, which I can't blame him for either. She has never lied to him and seems to genuinely care about his feelings. They both have a bit of that adolescent egocentrism, so maybe they will be good together. At least they will be able to find happiness in that.

I, on the other hand, will be decidedly unhappy for quite a while. I want to keep my baby. I really do. My life is already drastically different than it was before she came along and I can't help but think about what it would be like to raise her on my own. My current situation however makes such a future possible only within some sort of alternate universe. One where liking someone means they automatically have to like you back and you don't get pregnant on accident. But that would make something else suck, so maybe it's better this way. I will find some way to make things work, but for now I need to stop thinking and just sleep. I can think about it tomorrow, after all, as Scarlett O'Hara tells us, tomorrow is another day.

* * *

_That's all for now. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate. Have fun with your families and stay warm. More of 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' to come soonish. :)_


	6. On My Own

_Hey guys, hope you like where this is going and that it isn't dragging on. Hope everyone's holiday went as planned and that you are enjoying yourselves despite having another four months to wait for Glee._

* * *

6. On My Own

[Emma POV]

I wake slowly to the suns rays bathing my face in warmth and revel for a moment in the softness of my sheets. The contentment is relatively short-lived, however, as I realize how late I have slept in. It is never light when I wake. I will be late for work. That's when the realization slowly washes over me that I am not late for work – for I have no job to be late to. Unwanted tears stream down my face as my body slumps back against the pillows. I really do have nothing to get up for and I can't understand why I have done this to myself.

As I lie there mulling over the mess – I shudder at the thought of that word – I have gotten myself into, I recall the thoughts that lulled me to sleep the previous day. Quinn. That poor girl has got to be scared and lonely. In these emotions she is not alone, even if she feels as though she may be. Suddenly, it is as if my mind is made up for me and I am out of bed and in the shower before I realize what I am doing. It feels good to cleanse myself once again after sleeping for so long. Who knows how much I sweat or how many germs could have attached to my body over such a prolonged period. After a thorough wash, I step from the shower stall, my plush white towel wrapped about my body and a smaller one secured around my hair.

Taking care to dress in a highly coordinated outfit including a pristinely ironed pencil skirt, I make my way to the kitchen. As my bagel toasts, I pull a pad of paper out of a nearby drawer along with a ballpoint pen. I carefully write a well-thought-out note, folding it once, and writing a name on one side. Grabbing my bagel, I hastily spread a butter substitute on it, and take it to go. Once in the hallway, I situate a knit hat upon my auburn hair, pull on a pair of heels, slide into a peacoat, and slip the note into my purse. Swift steps take me down the stairs in my building, out the front door, and to my small car.

Upon my arrival at McKinley – a place I never expect to be again, let alone so soon after my resignation – I search for a certain red VW beetle. Finding it easily, I double park beside it, leave the car running behind me. Grasping a clean tissue, I lift the wiper and place my note on the windshield of the crimson automobile. Checking around me to be sure that I am alone, I replace the windshield wiper and return to my idling car. Not sure what to do with myself at this point, I pull carefully back onto the main road and head toward the local employment office.

* * *

[Will POV]

I leave school during my lunch hour in order to get over to Siferd & McCluskey to sign the divorce papers. Having received a call between class periods informing me that my documents were ready, I couldn't help but rush over as soon as possible. Signing the papers was just the beginning of the long legal process ahead of me. However, if Terri signs them without delay, all I will have to do is wait – something I have already resigned myself to do anyway. I arrive at the office sooner than anticipated and bolt up the stairs, not willing to wait for the slow elevator this time. Walking through the heavy door, I am greeted by name by Susan, the receptionist, who asks me to take a seat. Before I know it, Mr. Siferd is standing before me with a file in his hand.

"Mr. Schuester," he says, "if you would like to join me in my office, I can go over the documents with you before you sign and then we can have someone take them to your wife for you." I smile, shaking the nice man's hand, and gesture for him to lead the way. I am almost there; I can figuratively taste the freedom.

* * *

After a cursory overview of what I was signing, I put pen to paper and walked out the attorney's office for what I hope will be the final time. It has been a rough couple of weeks, finding out about Terri's betrayal, leaving her, not being able to go to sectionals, finally hearing Emma voice her true feelings for me, her quitting her job because of Ken and myself, and signing the divorce papers. On top of it all, I had to go through the embarrassment of asking my parents to move back in with them. They weren't thrilled with the circumstances to say the least, but I think they are happy to have me home. They never really liked Terri – I knew that even in high school – but they were good enough parents to support me, even in decisions they didn't espouse.

Although it feels a bit odd to be back in my parent's home, it is different than I expected. It is nice that they live the next town over in Westminster. This way nothing reminds me of my failed marriage and I am less likely to show up at Emma's uninvited. Plus it is only a seventeen minute drive on a clear day, which is not bad at all. Overall, it is a much better arrangement than sleeping on a bare mattress in the office of the choir room.

I make the fleeting voyage back to school before fourth period and second year Spanish and an air of happiness surrounds me. I turn the radio on in order to drown out my thoughts, willing inspiration to strike for regionals in the form of the perfect song. It does just the opposite however, as the current song, _Paper Planes_ by M.I.A., ends and another begins. _My Life Would Suck Without You_. My thoughts are instantly drawn back to a certain redhead and the empty office I walked by three times this morning, unable to avoid it. The chorus of the song blares through the bargain basement speaker system in my car and I ruminate over how much I miss her after just one day. My musing lasts only a few moments, however, as I pull into the first open spot in the school parking lot. When I step out of my dingy car, I am hit by a wave of Emma's perfume and berate myself for wanting her so much I invent smells in my own mind. Careful not to ding Quinn's shiny car as I slam my own car door, I make the short jaunt to the front doors.

* * *

[Emma POV]

My trip to the employment office lasted on the whole about five minutes. I realized as soon as I made it to the front of the line that I lacked probably the most important thing: a resume. Not having planned to go there in the first place, I was not mentally or physically prepared and had to run home to print off a few copies for the receptionist. Walking by the kitchen on the way to my office/spare bedroom, I can't help but cringe at the mess I left on the counter. First wiping the crumbs away and then disinfecting it, I smile at my own handiwork, not grasping until five seconds later that I have made this section of the counter much cleaner than the rest. Scoffing at my own stupidity, I pull my gloves on once more and continue to clean until the entire kitchen, floors and all, have been disinfected.

Ironically, my stomach chooses this point in time to grumble and, after looking at the digital clock on the stove, I notice that lunch time has come and gone. Not wanting to sully my clean kitchen so soon, I sidestep the still damp floor and grab my coat, purse, and keys. I make my way to my favorite little, local restaurant. One that serves only organic, vegan food and is know for cleanliness. Michelle, the hostess, greets me by name and wonders aloud why I am not at work. With the lunch rush, or what there normally is of one, over for the day, Michelle takes her break in order to speak with me about my current predicament. We are not what I would call friends, but she is a kind young woman who I feel I can really talk to, which is something I don't get much of these days.

I leave the restaurant with a smile on my face and a large tip on the table behind me. Things will begin to look up, for everything happens for a reason. I am a highly educated woman and finding a new job should not be difficult. By the time I make it back to my apartment, it is nearly three o'clock and I am not ready for my guest. Hastily shedding my coat and shoes at the door, I make my way into the apartment. Will she want tea? Coffee perhaps? Maybe a soda? I should have a healthy snack ready too. After preparing a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers, heating water for tea, starting a pot of coffee, and pulling a soda out of the fridge, all I can do is wait. I set the things out on a tray on my ottoman and before carefully holding my skirt in place and sitting down on the pristine white IKEA couch. I prepare my questions for the teenager, unsure of how to make her feel comfortable enough to let me help her – for I am certain that she will be needing my help. All I can do is be there to give it.

* * *

_Sorry that chapter was shorter. I suck, I know. I am going to try to make the next few a bit longer or at least post them quickly. Hope everyone's still interested in where this is going. I promise to get to some sort of point soonish._


	7. Keep Holding On

_Okay, so I think that this may be the quickest succession of postings I have ever had. Not that I am an extremely prolific writer, but still. Anyway, this may be taking forever to get anywhere, which I am sorry for, but I don't want to speed through things. It may be boring – in view of the amount of reviews I have had – but I hope it gets better for you. Enjoy._

* * *

7. Keep Holding On

[Quinn POV]

Today was another in a lengthy line of long days. The days that seem to drag on forever, and yet when they are over, I seem to have no idea what happened or what I did. It's kind of unnerving, but at the same time, I like not having to care. Making my way to my car, I do my best to ignore the lingering glances, the haunting stares, that would bug me if I let them. Starting my car, something my parent's oddly let me keep when they kicked me out, I notice a yellow paper on my windshield. Dreading opening it and hoping that it is not a ticket – my parking pass was in plain sight for crying out loud – or even another piece of hate mail, I peel back the windshield wiper and take it in my hand. Gliding back into the driver's seat, I take a deep breath before opening the precisely folded not and reading it.

_Quinn,_

_I know things have been rough for you over the past couple of months and i that everything is starting to get worse. I am distressed for you and all the pain you have to bear. You do not, however, have to bear it alone. Even though i have left mckinley, it does not mean i have left you and your peers. I am always here for you quinn and am wondering if you would be willing to come by my apartment after school to have a chat with me. It's nothing to be worried about. I just want to help you quinn – if you will let me._

_419-555-4357_

Richelieu apartments

1475 edgewood drive #204

Lima, oh 45805

~Emma, aka 'ms. Pillsbury'

I am crying by the time I reach the end of the note. My tears leave big splotches on the page before me, running the ink and making it damn near impossible to read. Luckily, I know where the apartment building is and will have no need of her phone number for now. Attempting to stifle my crying enough to drive, I wipe haphazardly at my face until it is nearly dry. The traffic of other students seems to have cleared and I make it quickly out of the parking lot an toward my unexpected destination.

My car sits idling in the apartment parking lot, I in my seat, unable to make myself move. In the note she said that she wants to help, which is great. I do need help from someone, but what scares me is that I don't know what support of help she is willing to give. Shaking my head, I rapidly get out of my car and wander toward the building. As I near her doorway, I start to shake. For what reason I am unsure, but I am guessing it has to do with the uncertainty I feel. I raise my hand to gently rap at the door of number 204. It opens before me and I barely have time to drop my hand back to my side. Seeing Ms. P. before me calms me almost instantly and I attempt to smile back at her as she does the same.

"Thank you for coming Quinn," she murmurs, gesturing for me to enter her apartment. "If you could take off your shoes, that would be great. I can take your coat for you as well." Her voice is soothing and I somehow feel right at home in her immaculate entryway. Shedding my flats, I carefully place them next to her heels on the shoe rack and slide my arms out of my coat. Ms. Pillsbury takes it from me, hangs it in the closet, and then leads me to the living room with a soothing hand on my shoulder. She has set out a plate of food and a number of different drink choices. Ms. P. sits down on the couch and motions for me to take a seat next to her. She lifts the plate and offers it's contents to me. I have to admit that I am quite hungry and gratefully take an apple slice and some cheese.

"Thanks," I say. When she puts the plate down without taking any for herself, I give her a quizzical glance. "Aren't you having any Ms. Pillsbury?" Smiling, she looks up from the plate to me and shakes her head.

"No, I just at lunch and don't eat dairy anyway." She stops, pulling a leg up underneath her body and turning to face me more fully. "Please call me Emma though. I'm no longer your superior Quinn, consider us equals." Gesturing between the pair of us, she smiles.

"Okay," I mutter as I take a bite of my apple. "Ms. P- Sorry, Emma, um, what… what did you want to talk about?" I stutter, unsure of how much of myself I want to open up to the woman before me. It reminds me of Tina and how she pushed people away with a stutter she never really had. It kind of makes me wish I could just take everything back and be normal again. Then I think about what I would be giving back, and am unsure once again of what I truly want, which scares me.

"I just wanted to talk a little bit about what is happening with you Quinn," she says in her soft, calming voice. "Where are you living right now?" I knew this question would come up. How could it not? Yet, somehow I am still wholly unprepared. I know what needs to be said, but don't want to have the conversation that follows. I pause, considering whether or not to just say I would rather not talk. But then again, Ms. Pillsbury is not here to judge me or impose her own opinions. No, like she said, she is here to help, so why not let her?

"At Finn's," I admit, looking up at her through my lashes as I pretend to study the apple slice in my hand. Apple. That reminds me of Finn and his insipid baby name. Although it incensed me to hear what he wanted to name her, it also made me happy that he wanted to be a part of things, and sad that he couldn't. We can't name her. I can't name her. Because I am giving her away.

"And how do you feel about that?" Her question snaps me back to the present and I attempt to remember the topic of conversation. "How does _he_ feel about that?" she adds, and soon I realize she is speaking of Finn's feelings about me living with him. Ah, yes, here's the hard part.

"I…" Trailing off, I glance in her direction, hoping to voice through my eyes how hard it is to put everything into words. How scary it is to say it aloud. She seems to understand and returns my look with compassion.

"It's okay, Quinn," she sooths, placing a hand atop mine in my lap, "you can tell me. I promise not to tell another soul."

"Even Mr. Schue?" I ask before I even know what I have said, realizing that I am afraid of him knowing my plight. In my heart I still want him to take the baby and don't want him to think of me in a negative light.

"Yes, Quinn. Even Mr. Schuester. This is between you and me." As if to elucidate her point, Ms. P. squeezes my fingers lightly within her own. At that same moment, I feel the words tumbling out of my mouth like word vomit.

"It's hard," I confess, somehow feeling much lighter than before. "Living there is hard. I don't want to be there anymore because I can feel how much it hurts Finn to have me around. I don't deserve to be there anymore. His home should be his haven, not the place he avoids at all costs. I just… I have nowhere else to go." I sigh as it all comes out in a hurry, any attempt at censorship thrown right out the window.

"What about Santana?" Ms. P. asks, her voice laced with concern and I can't help but wince at the mention of the name.

"Were not exactly close friends anymore – not after the whole Puck debacle. Moving in with her would be no better than being at Finn's. And I can't move in with Brittany either. They don't have any room for me." Ms. Pillsbury nods, taking in what I have told her while she considers other options in her head.

"I see, and you're-" I cut in quickly before she has the chance to mention what I assume is going to come out of her mouth.

"I can't go back to my parents." I mention, hastily, shaking my head and taking another bite of apple just to fill my mouth. I don't want to talk about them. Not now, not ever.

"I wasn't going to suggest that," Ms. Pillsbury whispers, lifting my chin with her pointer so that out faces meet and quickly pulling her finger back. "I was asking if you had any other friends you thought might be able to take you in." My eyes gather moisture as the weight of her question sinks in and I contemplate the answer.

"I don't really have friends anymore. After being kicked off the Cheerios, everyone kind of shunned me; Except Glee club, but I don't know any of them well enough to ask. I just… I'm stuck." A lone tear slips down my face and Ms. Pillsbury summons enough courage to wipe it away with her thumb.

"Well, Quinn, would you ever consider… I mean, well… moving in with me? Just until you get back on your feet. I have an extra room that you are welcome to. You'll just have to be careful to keep it clean. I… it would be nice to have a little company. But, if you would rather stay at the Hudson's-"

"Really?" I don't wait for her to finish rambling and cut her off with an exclamation. "You'd… you'd let me stay here?" My heart begins to beat faster in my chest at the thought. Living here. My eyes grow almost as wide as hers as I wait with baited breath for her response.

"Of course Quinn. Would you be interested in living with me?"

I hold my breath and nod, not sure what would come out of my mouth if I were to open it.

"Good." She barely pauses, wasting no time in getting to the heart of the matter and a smile begins to develop on my face. The first smile in as long as I can remember. "Look, let's talk for a bit about what that would mean and a little more about what is happening with you right now. Then we can go pick up your things together. How does that sound?" My smile only widens when she mentions going with me to get my belongings. I won't be alone. Not anymore.

"Good," is all I can muster, however, this seems to be enough for Ms. P. and she smiles back before continuing on.

"Great. Okay, so, Quinn if you are going to live with me, you need to know a little bit about myself first. As you may have noticed, things stay extremely clean around here and that will be something that you will need to keep a close eye on when you live with me. You see, I… well I suffer from mysophobia, which is what some people may more commonly call an irrational fear of germs. I can tell you the long story later, but for now, I just want you to understand what you may be getting yourself into. I am not too worried about you making a mess because you do seem to be a quite clean person overall, but you will also have to be careful to clean up after yourself. Do you think that this is something you could handle and agree to, Quinn?" She looks at me expectantly for a moment before I realize I have yet to respond. I had gotten so caught up in her story that I guess I missed the question.

"Yes," I say, quickly remedying my silence. "I promise not to make a mess, and clean up after myself, and I'll even keep my room tidy. I… I really want to stay here." My eyes once again fill with tears, not out of sorrow, but out of anticipation of the contentment that lies ahead. Maybe I will make it after all.

"Then I think we have reached an agreement, Quinn." I blink back my tears and smile at the kind woman before me. How could I get so lucky as to have such a caring person in my life when I have done everything possible to screw it up as of late? "Now, can we talk a bit about what you plan to do with your baby once it is born?" The tears seem to be back full force at the question that was even more difficult than the last. My baby.

"I'm not sure," I divulge, shaking my head so slightly even I can barely feel it. Ms. Pillsbury seems concerned and confused by my answer and asks another question of me.

"You're not sure if you can talk about it or not sure what you want to do with the baby?" Both, I think to myself before realizing who it is I am speaking to. Together, she had said. Together, she will help me get over this, and so I need to let her in. Ms. P. needs to know my personal confusion, especially if I expect to live with her. There will be another person in both of our lives in just about five months.

"The latter," I mutter, barely above a whisper. "It's just… well, I wanted to give the baby to the Schuesters because I wanted her to have a good father and I thought that would be Mr. Schue. I wanted him to have her. But now that the marriage has fallen apart, well I'd rather give her to anyone over Mrs. … uh, Terri. And then I stop to think about it and I don't want to give her to anyone. I want my daughter, but I know that I can't keep her. I'm not a kid anymore. I stopped being a child the minute that little plus sign appeared, but I also know that I can't support my child like a stable couple could. I know that, but in my heart, I want her." After my brief rant, I glance up at Ms. Pillsbury and wait for her reaction. I half expect her to say she doesn't want me anymore – that I am making her life too complicated already, but then again, Ms. P. is not the kind of person to go back on her word. "I know that was a lot to unload on you Ms. … Emma," I correct myself hastily at the look she gives me and then continue on with my train of thought, "but, well, I don't know what to do and you said you wanted to help, right?" At this, she takes my hand in hers once more and pulls our joined fingers into her own lap. As I look into her eyes, I know that she is trying to find the right way to tell me what I need to hear.

"Yes, Quinn, I did. And I do – want to help that is. You are in quite the predicament and there is no easy answer for me to give you." I sigh at her answer, the always diplomatic Ms. Pillsbury never fails to disappoint. "I understand wanting to keep your own child, I really do. But you are also correct in the assumption that you would not be able to support a child. Why don't we just take this one step at a time?" She looks into my eyes, silently asking if it is okay to continue. I nod. "The two of us could look into adoption agencies. If you can find a family you like, one that you think could do a better job of raising your daughter than you could yourself, then we will work on letting her go. However, if you can't find anyone worthy, then we will work on finding some reasonable way for you to keep her. We will do this together Quinn. How does that sound?" There it is again. Together. I like the way that sounds – not being in this by myself. Also, having the other person be a mature responsible adult I can turn to for advice doesn't hurt either. I like that and so I nod once more.

"Good. That sounds good." Ms. P. is soon nodding her own head in response and I can't help but smile.

"Alright, I think we have done enough talking for right now. Would you like to see the rest of the apartment?" Smiling back at me, Ms. Pillsbury waits for my response.

"I would love that." She stands and waits patiently for me to do the same. When I do, she takes steps toward the room opposite us, separated from the hall by a large archway.

"Well, you've already seen the entryway and the living room of course. This is the kitchen. I will clear out a shelf for you in the fridge so you can have dairy or whatever you want for yourself. I will cook meals and make you lunches for school if you want. Um, you are welcome to use anything in here whenever you want, just remember to clean up afterward, like I already said. Here are the plates and bowls. This is the silverware drawer. And here is the cups and mugs. Feel free to look through the cupboards later and familiarize yourself with the kitchen." She turns around excitedly and is back in the hallway before I realize it. My smile only grows wider as I follow. She takes me into a smaller room to the left with a large, polished, wooden table centered around six chairs.

"This is the dining room. I guess there's not much to tell you about it, except that it is here. Most of the time, I eat at the table to avoid messes on the couch." Walking away, she gestures over her shoulder for me to tag along and I do without a word. She walks back into the kitchen and then takes a left into the hallway and another sharp left into an even smaller room housing a washer and dryer.

"This is the laundry room. You can do laundry anytime between eight am and ten pm. If you do it at night, it disturbs the neighbors. The supplies are in this cabinet here and there is a hamper in your bathroom." I look around the almost closet sized room and nod my head, showing her I am ready to move on. The next room she shows me is a good sized bathroom just off the hall from the laundry room.

"This is the main bathroom and will be yours as well. I have my own in the master bedroom, so you only have to share with company. If you need anything in the way of bathroom supplies, just let me know." My own bathroom. I smile to myself thinking of not having to share with a teenage boy. We move then into a bedroom straight across the hallway that also seems to be used as an office.

"This is going to be your bedroom. As you can see, my desk is in here right now, but I will move my laptop and you can put yours there. This is your bed. Additional bedding and sheets are in the hall closet if you need them." The last room we enter is another bedroom slightly bigger than the previous one.

"This is my bedroom. My bathroom is just through that door," she mentions, pointing to her left. "If you ever need me and I'm asleep, don't hesitate to wake me. I, uh, I think that's about it." She smirks at me and the pair of us slowly make our way back into the living room, but don't sit. Ms. P. crosses her arms and continues speaking once more. "If you ever want to bring a friend over, that's fine. Just remind them of the cleanliness rules and always remember to take your shoes off at the door." She pauses for a moment, as if thinking and then looks at me again. "Is there anything else you want to know?" I take a moment to contemplate the question and seriously can't think of anything else I would need to know.

"No, not really." There's so much information swimming around in my head already that it is almost too hard to make sense of it all. I look around the room, trying to cement it into my brain. This is my home.

"Quinn, are you okay?" the question pulls me back to the present and I focus my attention on the slender redhead standing in front of myself.

"Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed, I guess." I attempt a full-blown smile, but it doesn't really reach the corners of my mouth. She notices and places a hand on my shoulder, her fingers separated from my germs by the cardigan I still wear.

"I know it's a lot to take in. And I don't want you to stress out about anything, Quinn. I want this to be a safe place for you. Just know that I am here for anything you need. Even if it's just to talk." Ms. P. lets that sink in for a moment before running her hand down my arm and dropping it to her side. "Are you ready to go get your belongings?"

"I think so," I murmur, staring at my bare feet. "Yeah, I'm ready." She turns to walk around my and picks up a pair of white heels that match the knitted beret on the hat rack. "Emma?" I call out, still standing where she left me. She returns to my side and I slowly thread my arms around her and burrow my head into the crook of her neck. "Thank you," I mumble into her before I realize all of the germs I have transferred and pull back without hesitation. She, although somewhat flustered at my actions, doesn't seem to mind so much and smiles at me a final time before we leave.

"You're welcome, Quinn. Everything is going to be okay now. Everything's gonna be okay."


	8. Can’t Fight This Feeling Any Longer

_Thanks to BeAuTiFuLlIfE, Cherub fan, Carly, Michelleyall, and everyone else who has taken the time to review the story. It all means a lot to me and I really appreciate that you are reading, let alone reviewing. Awesome!_

_I just took a writing break to check facebook and noticed that my puppy (a friend just posted new pictures of him) has the exact same color eyes as Jayma Mays. Then I realized that I was jealous. I'm pretty pathetic, eh?_

* * *

8. Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer

I am startled awake at 6:34 am by the gurgling sound of vomit that floats down the hallway to meet my ears. I am out of bed in a flash and as I push open the door of the guest bathroom, I am greeted by a familiar sight. Quinn kneels on the hard tile flooring, holding back her own hair as she looses her stomach contents into the toilet bowl before her. I take quick strides to her side and perch my body on the clean bathtub. Reaching out, I take her hair into one of my hands and soothingly rub her back with the other – our morning routine. Soon the purging comes to an end and her breathing slows. Moving my hand from her hair, I reach toward the sink for her water glass and hand it carefully to her.

Quinn gratefully takes the cup from me and washes her mouth out quickly before taking a drink to replenish the liquid within her body. As she stands, I do as well, rubbing one last soothing circle on her back as I make my way to my own room once more. We will brush our teeth in our respective bathrooms, shower, dress, and meet in the kitchen for breakfast before she leaves for school. Save for the beginning, the routine is not much different than my usual one, and I find myself falling quickly into sync with it.

It has been a week and a half since I asked Quinn if she wanted to move in with me. At first I thought it was a bad idea. It just sort of came out of my mouth and after it was out there, I didn't have the heart to take the offer back. Once she moved in, however, I realized how nice it is to have someone else to talk to. Someone else to eat meals with. Someone just to have around to ward off the loneliness I often felt before. In this week and a half, I am no closer to finding a job. I have begun to worry that if I don't find one soon, I will run out of savings and both Quinn and I will be out on the streets.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask of Quinn as she makes her way into the kitchen, hair still wet from her shower.

"Not bad really," she tells me as she opens the fridge. "I think that the severity of the morning sickness has really worn off. It was bad there for a while, but it's kind of better now. It just feels like she doesn't agree with something I've been eating. Maybe I should try giving up dairy, too." Pulling a loaf of bread out, she opens the bag and removes two slices. After sliding them into the toaster, she returns the bulk of the bread to the fridge and looks over my shoulder at the eggs cooking in the skillet.

"That might be a good idea, Quinn. It would definitely make cooking an easier task." She smiles as she makes her way over to the cabinet to take out two plates for the pair of us.

"Well then, as soon as my milk and cheese are gone, let's give it a whirl. What have I got to loose, right?" The table is quickly set and the toast pops up as I carefully scrape equal amounts of scrambled egg onto each plate. Quinn moves to the toaster, 'butter's the bread, and places each piece on a plate. I grab two glasses from the cabinet, hand one to her, and fill my own with water from the filter on the tap. Quinn fills her glass with orange juice and we are both soon seated at the table and eating our usual breakfast. It was easy to find foods we would both enjoy and to fall into a routine that worked efficiently for the both of us.

"Did you get your Spanish homework done last night?" I ask as she swallows a bite of egg.

"Yeah," she says, putting her fork down on her plate as we speak. At least her parents taught her impeccable manners before kicking her out. "I was just having some trouble with irregular verbs at first, but then I remembered a trick Mr. Schue taught us." We speak of him often, yet every time either one of us says his name, my heart flutters in my chest.

"Oh, well that's great, Quinn." As I finish my breakfast, my mind wanders to what he is doing now, what has been happening with his marriage. When I told him to call me when he figured things out, I didn't mean that he couldn't talk to me before that as well. It kind of sucks not hearing his voice. I really do need my friend back. As great as Quinn is, she is still a teenager. I need adult interaction. "So, have they hired a new guidance counselor yet?" I ask idly.

"Nope," she responds, washing down her toast with the orange juice that remains in her glass, "Principal Figgins has been looking, but there's not really a market out there for guidance counselors I guess. He's got this temp in though – real floozy of a lady. I don't know where he got her, but everybody missed you."

"Oh well, that's nice to hear." I finish my toast and glance at the gold watch on my left wrist. 7:35 it reads. School starts at eight and if Quinn doesn't hurry, she will be late. "Look at the time, Quinn. You better get going. Your lunch is in the fridge." Glancing at the digital clock behind my back, Quinn nods her head, picking up her dishes and carrying them to the sink. Ask she begins to wash them, I stop her. "Don't worry about the dishes, sweetie. You did them yesterday."

"Okay," she smiles, gently placing them into the sink before wiping her hands on the towel hanging there. "Thanks, Emma. I'll see you after school then. Today's Glee practice, so I won't be back until five." Heading toward the fridge, she removes her lunch, and places it on the counter.

"I know, honey. I packed you an extra snack in your lunch bag in case you get hungry at practice." Disappearing down the hallway, she returns with her shoulder bag, sliding her Spanish textbook into it as she enters the kitchen. "Let me know if you'll be late?" Quinn grabs her lunch and heads toward the entryway, calling softly over her should to me as she puts on her coat and shoes.

"Of course. Have a good day, Emma."

"You too, Quinn," I call out, standing to place my own plate and glass in the sink as well.

As Quinn walks out the door, I make quick work of the breakfast dishes, scrubbing and disinfecting them twice with bleach. One never can be too careful, especially when it comes to objects that touch your food. Quinn's comments resonate in my mind and I can't stop ruminating over them. And by ruminating, I mean pondering, not chewing cud. The kids miss me. Figgins has not yet hired a new guidance counselor. But can I do it? Can I really go back there and face Ken everyday? Well, if it means going back to a steady income – having money for groceries for two, for rent, for utilities, and for maternity clothes for the ever expanding Quinn – then yes. I took a child into my home and need to make sacrifices to keep her safe and healthy. That's the way life works. Making up my mind, I decide to go to Figgins today. I will go as soon as the students leave and gracefully ask for another chance at counseling McKinley's youth. Will Figgins give me my job back? It's hard to say. Will it be easy? Of course not. The one thing I do know, is that it is my last hope. I need this and so does Quinn.

* * *

I exit Figgins office at 4:10 in a state somewhere between happiness and confusion. Could it really have been that easy? I didn't even have to grovel and the man just handed my job back to me? Just like that? Don't get me wrong, I am elated that he is affording me this opportunity. Most employer's wouldn't. I'm just confused as to why he took me back so quickly and with such open arms. Were there really no other applicants for my job? These thoughts and more continue to run through my mind as I wander the halls in a daze. I stop at what will once again be my office as of tomorrow morning and my mouth drops open in shock. It looks like a war zone. Wasting no time, I reach into my purse and pull out a pair of disposable gloves. Setting quickly to work, I have garbage throw away, papers and brochures in their correct order and surfaces cleaned with the help of my handy dandy Clorox wipes. Smiling as the smell of bleach meets my nose, I toss the used gloves into the garbage along with my final wipe and look at the clock. Only 4:45. Definitely a new record.

A sound breaks the silence of the desolate hallway and I find myself peaking around my office door toward it's origin. I soon realize that it is the muffled sound of singing that reaches me from the choir room around the corner. Slipping quietly toward the offending room, I peak through the tall skinny window in the door. The sight that greets me is one of pure happiness. Quinn takes the lead in a song I recognize instantly. As a redhead, I was intrinsically drawn to the struggles of young orphan Annie. I have to admit that the song they have chosen, _It's The Hard Knock Life_, was my favorite – other than _Tomorrow_, of course. The lyrics take on an even deeper meaning when I consider that I am the closest thing to parents that Quinn has at the moment. This song about not being wanted, being knocked down a peg on a daily basis, really seems to speak of the troubles Quinn is currently experiencing. Even the boys join in on the orphan parts and I can't help but smile at their integration into the traditionally all female song.

"Don't it seem like there's never any light!" Finn, Puck, Artie, Kurt, Matt, and Mike belt out the lyrics from one corner of the room, slowly sweeping toward the girls.

"Once a day, don't you wanna throw the towel in?" Matching the boy's movements step for step, Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany sing in perfect harmony.

"It's easier than puttin' up a fight." Puck's shoulder touches Finns as they near the center of the room and I instantly flinch, expecting some sort of altercation to arise. Will seems to have the same thoughts on his mind and takes a step forward, bracing himself against the piano for a quick lunge if necessary. The predicted fight never occurs, however, as the pair continue to ignore each other's presence and sing without interruption.

Quinn takes the lead once more and my eyes focus again on Will, now leaning casually against the shiny black instrument. His hair has been cut recently and his shirt seems to be freshly pressed. This could mean one of two things – he found somewhere to live while the divorce becomes finalized, or he moved back in with Terri to give things another try. I hope with all my heart that it is the former, but can't bring myself to regret the decision I made of pushing him away in order to let him make the right decision on his own.

"Empty belly life! Rotten smelly life! Full of sorrow life! No tomorrow life!" I tune back into the song just in time to hear all of the kids singing together. They sound truly amazing as a group and I marvel at Will's abilities to foster such an incredible group atmosphere. I feel the sensation of someone's eyes burning into me and as I turn my gaze, I realize it is Will's eyes that currently follow my every move. Our eyes meet and in his I see both uncertainty and joy. As the piece comes to an end, Will turns his attention back to the group and makes a few comments that I seem to miss because before I know it, the door is opening in my face. I step promptly to the right to avoid actually getting hit by it and can see the confused glances of Glee kids behind him as Will closes the door and the music begins once again.

"Emma?" he asks, pulling me from my trance as I watch the students begin to dance. I look up into his hazel eyes and for the life of me can't think of anything to say. Luckily, no words are necessary as he envelops me in the most heartfelt hug I can ever remember receiving. I return the embrace with everything I have, everything I have been feeling since the kiss, and he seems to do the same.

"I missed you, Em," he murmurs into my hair as I begin to wonder why I ever left. I take a deep breath and inhale the scent that is so purely Will Schuester that I can't help nuzzling my nose into his collarbone to get a better whiff. "Are you smelling me?" he asks quizzically and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face.

"Yeah," I tell him, "I think I am. I've missed you too, Will," I mumble as I pull from the hug, immediately seeing the smile that is plastered across his face as well.

"Pretty crazy what a week and a half of being apart can do, huh?" He takes a careful step back in an attempt to be courteous of my personal space and feelings. At the same time, I take a step forward bridging the distance he attempts to create. "I filed for divorce," he blurts out, looking at the ground. I am suddenly glad he is, so he cannot see the shocked, and then blissful, expression on my face.

"I…" replying in kind, I too stare at the ground, "I just asked Figgins for my job back." I stand there for what seems like an eternity before I hear a sigh escape his lips.

"Really?" he wonders aloud and I can almost hear the smile in his voice. Looking up just to be sure, I catch sight of the smile that has returned full force. I nod and he continues. "What did he say? He gave it back right? Because that woman they brought in as a temp is seriously ridiculous. If you need me to, I can run over to his office right now and lay down the law. If he didn't let you have your job, well then, well, he's just crazy. I don't know-"

"Shhh…" His rambling is quickly cut off by my finger to his lips and I gently hush him. "Will, he rehired me on the spot. Don't worry, okay? I start again tomorrow morning." Without realizing it, I have placed my finger directly upon his supple lips and taken slow steps that put myself within inches of his chest. I can feel the heat radiating off of his taught body as he responds.

"That's great, Em," he mumbles as my finger slowly slips from his mouth, lingering slightly on his perfect chin dimple. "I-" Any comment he may have made is thwarted by the door behind us being thrown open, pushing my body the rest of the way into his. Will's arms instantly surround my back in a protective embrace. I attempt to regain my footing, barely registering the less than heartfelt apology Noah Puckerman throws over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway. "Are you okay, Em?" I open my mouth to respond, but soon, the rest of the Glee club begins to file out of the room and I notice Quinn out of the corner of my eye.

"Will," I murmur, glancing over my shoulder at the blonde's retreating figure, "are you busy tonight?"

"No, I-" I smirk, turning back to face him, my hair cascading across my face in a wave.

"I'd just," I begin quickly, "I think we should talk about things before tomorrow. Why don't you gather your things and I will be right back?" He smirks as well and nods, affirming his desire to speak with me.

"Sounds great, Em. I have to run to my classroom and then we can go." With that, he turns and briskly walks in the opposite direction. I, on the other hand, hurry to catch up with Quinn.

"Quinn," I call out to her, "wait." She stops short, halting a conversation with Rachel and turning toward me as I make the final steps toward the pair. "I – hello Rachel – I am going to be out this afternoon, but there is food in the fridge to make spaghetti and salad for dinner. You're welcome to invite someone over if you like." I look to Rachel, who nods in my direction with a smile on her face before looking expectantly at Quinn. Recalling that I have interrupted their conversation, I take a step backward. "Sorry for the interruption, girls. I'll see you later Quinn."

"Okay, Emma – Ms. Pillsbury – Em… what do I call you if we're at school?" Quinn's question takes me off guard and I think about it for a moment, not having considered this myself. Having her call me two different things at school and home feels ridiculous, and yet, it is the only way to work through our current situation.

"Well, Quinn," I respond, "I guess you should call me Ms. P. or Ms. Pillsbury when we're at school. I, um, I go my job back this afternoon, so I will be your guidance counselor once more starting tomorrow morning." Looking toward the pair to gauge their reaction, I am not prepared for what comes as Rachel launches herself into my arms.

"Oh, Ms. Pillsbury, that's great," she nearly screams into my ear. "We've really missed you around here. It's only been about a week and it feels like so much longer. Seriously. I think that woman they had temporarily in your position used to be a leper or something because she had no idea how to interact with other people. It was like watching-" I pull backward out of the embrace and smooth my blouse, attempting to keep a friendly face while contemplating the amount of germs I now have all over my body.

"Thanks, Rachel. I appreciate your enthusiasm. It's nice to be back." Taking a step back herself, Rachel smiles widely.

"Oh, yeah, well, I guess we'll be seeing you in the morning, right Quinn?" The tone of Rachel's voice implies that I have given something away with my previous comments. Did Quinn not tell anyone she was living with me? Now I feel horrible for making Quinn feel uncomfortable. Rachel, the group busybody, now knows Quinn's secret. This means than by lunchtime tomorrow, everyone else will as well. Having already said too much, I look into Quinn's suddenly wide eyes and attempt to express my sorrow at having outed her. This is something she will need to work through on her own. I have done enough damage already and have my own issues to deal with.

"I'll just leave you girls, now. Have a nice evening." Turning, I make my way back to the still open door of the choir room and wait for Will.

"Bye!" Rachel calls from down the hallway, excitement laden in her voice, before she drapes Quinn's arm over her own and walks away.

* * *

_That's all for now. Don't forget to let me know what you think. Thanks for reading._


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